


The Capacity For Loyalty

by slightlyjillian



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyjillian/pseuds/slightlyjillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode 1x04 Murphy's Law-AU. After Murphy's banishment, Roma searches for him. She isn't the only one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Capacity For Loyalty

**Author's Note:**

> An indulgent _what if_ Finn kept track of Murphy after his banishment. I took liberty to delay certain events, such as Raven's arrival to Earth. Please enjoy and thanks for reading.

The darkness on Earth, the darkness found in the shadows, was made to hide things. Murphy learned this as he peered over the edge of the ridge. It might have been a hundred feet. It might have been a thousand. But it wasn't the bottomless black of space. 

Murphy understood the darkness when it was patterned with stars. So he spent the rest of the first evening of his banishment in that same place on his back, looking upward. His arms ached. His neck burned. He couldn't sleep, although he had never felt so dead tired that even his eyes seemed immobilized by the weight of Earth's gravity. He could do nothing but watch the bitter optimism of day's arrival. Until the dark was brushed aside by daylight.

"I see you've made a lot of progress." 

Murphy recognized the unexpected voice. The Space Walker. The one who had managed to out-smart Bellamy the night of the cat meat when he had simply said, _I thought there were no rules_.

Murphy couldn't move, but that didn't stop the smile as he explained, "I've got a blade. And I'm a murderer, falsely accused. Or didn't you hear?"

"I came here to give you this," Finn said, still out of sight. 

A thud landed and next a push of air blew the grass against Murphy's cheek. He found it easier to turn his head than he had expected. A knotted bag rested on the ground and just beyond stood the other boy. Finn had his thumbs casually tucked into the pockets of his jacket. But the tracker stayed light on his feet. 

Murphy appreciated the effort. It had to mean that Murphy wasn't completely toothless in Finn's estimation.

And that motivated Murphy to yank himself up and tear into the material to greedily accept Finn's provisions. Food. Smaller pouches with supplies, rubber ties for nets or storage. A sampling of herbs. 

"Socks," Murphy mused. "So considerate."

"I thought you would have gone," admitted Finn. He faced the cliff and the pillows of mist that hid the edge.

"Why?" Murphy took the fist-sized cut of meat and gnawed it cold, juices bursting into his mouth. He rubbed his lips and licked at the excess on his hand. When Finn didn't reply, Murphy guessed, "Expected me to leave the scene of the crime?"

"You hardly committed a crime," Finn murmured.

"Yet," Murphy filled in the blank. He stiffened, finding his strength from the food and from the determination that had formed into his bones like steel. "Don't pretend I'm someone that I'm not. I thought you were smart?" Murphy chuckled. "Even _Bellamy_ knew not to trust me."

Finn let his hands drop to his sides. "Is that what you think?" 

"Ah yes, what do I _think_?" Murphy reassembled the gear, knotting the corners of the material again. "Because it's all about what we think. What we _feel_. No one cares for the truth."

"The truth is that you're a dangerous bastard," Finn interjected. "But…"

"Thanks, by the way," Murphy said, while standing. 

He leaned heavily on his left leg. His right side was especially stiff, hurting from the abuse. Who was to blame? At first, it had been so clear to put faces, names, to his enemies. But how could he have counted all the fists? Recognized all the feet? The faces of the Ark delinquents who had obediently worked like automated equipment came to life in rage and destruction. 

Murphy's anger had become fear and the panic blurred the frenzy in his mind. Except for two clear points. The moment Bellamy had kicked the table. And so much later, after the drop… when someone had held Murphy up and he could breathe again. 

Finn's expression went sorrowful then blank. "Thanks for what? _This is nothing!_ You're going to need…" 

"No," Murphy concluded, "Thanks for saving my life." 

He didn't expect a reply, so he scanned the distant horizons, considering his options. "So now I guess the question for me is… left or right?" 

"Why don't you come back?" Finn gestured toward the trees. 

Murphy surprised himself by laughing, sincerely. The peculiar happiness ricocheted around his skull leaving a path of optimism in his attitude. He scoffed, without his usual irritation, "And I thought you were smart or something."

"Do you want some company?" Finn tried again. "Let me come with you a ways. I can show you a few tricks."

"I didn't sleep through Earth Skills," Murphy griped, again without heat. He just couldn't seem to find the means to tap into his anger when it came to Finn. For everything, when he looked at Finn he saw the arms that lifted him. He saw the fingers that had removed the rope. Memories kicked in, panic tried to chase them, so Murphy pinched the bridge of his nose. And relented, "Fine. If it makes you feel any better."

"It would make me feel a lot better," Finn added. "And that's also the truth."

"Don't I know it," Murphy muttered, rolling his eyes and settling on the left. 

He didn't remember the woods like Atom had. He didn't know how to track like Jones or to properly disembowel the kill like Mbege. But Murphy did know how to be bullheaded. Glancing over at Finn who began to match their pace, Murphy realized he wasn't the only stubborn one.

.:.

Murphy settled on a new camp in one of the systems of caves and tunnels that he found while exploring with Finn. Murphy did some investigation of his surroundings on his own, but seldom out of sight from something familiar. He never went far into the cool tunnels for fear of being lost in the dark. 

During the long hours, Murphy drifted into a sullen loneliness. Finn visited with regularity but not enough frequency if Murphy was going to share his opinion. Therefore he kept himself busy with as much routine as possible. Reinforced his defenses while keeping them as camouflaged as possible. Reset his traps. Hunted. Gathered. All broken with regular trips to the nearby river. 

That morning he had started to sweat. The dirt from placing his traps turned to mud on his fingers. Murphy had to fight back memories. The sticky mess tightened his throat and he gasped for breath, trembling and worried until he could convince himself that he had survived being kicked through the mud. He wasn't in immediate danger. He could breathe.

Murphy rushed to the river, undressed, and hurried into the deepest parts of the water. He lingered longer than was safe. While he knew that the open surface of the river left him vulnerable to any prying eyes, he couldn't stand to be dirty. 

The water refreshed his spirit. It flowed steadily carrying away the grime and the dark thoughts. New, clear water quenched his thirst. 

He heard a snap. The water tangled his legs, preventing him from turning as fast as he wanted. He couldn't see quickly enough as he scanned the shore. The tall tree trunks. The rocks. The bushes and tall grass.

"John?" It was Roma's voice that helped convince Murphy that he wasn't dreaming. 

"What are you doing here?" he raged, cutting the water with his hands. He sloshed through the shallows not stopping the forward movement even as she stepped back and away. His fingers twitched, but his blade was with his clothes, and he had stopped for neither. 

"I-I had to, John," she swallowed. 

She was of a similar height, able to match him glare for glare, except now her eyes fixed on a point over his shoulder. Her chin tilted back, a postures often forced by the Ark guards when they wanted the Sky Box prisoners to demonstrate submission. 

The Ark. Murphy, even with all his time to think, hadn't let himself roam back to those days as happier. As better. But he couldn’t forget Roma had been a good friend then and there. Before everything had gone to shit. Seeing her stirred a melancholy that absorbed his anger. 

"I don't suppose you're here to join me in exile," he huffed. She didn't answer, so he went on to say, "No. I didn't think so. Too comfortable being Bellamy's girl, isn't it? So much for loyalty, Roma, when he can get you all the things that you want."

"Loyalty's for shit," Roma argued, returning to the fiery personality that had made them so compatible from the start. "Bellamy didn't show you any."

Murphy paused, checking her for a trick, an angle. Roma watched out for herself. As any sane person with a sense of self-preservation should. But Murphy had nothing to offer her, so that left only the one question. _Why?_

He dropped his shoulders and went back to where his clothing had warmed and dried in the sunlight. He dressed without urgency. If Roma stayed, they would talk. If she didn't, then he could continue as he had. Hope was for romantics.

She stayed.

Murphy sat, patting the large flat rock underneath him and leaning back on his hands as Roma climbed up to join him. Once they had claimed the highest levels of the Sky Box and had sat in similar positions only with their legs swinging over the edge of the walkways and their arms looped through the rails. 

Murphy recalled, "We were in charge once, Roma. Fought for our Sky Box territory. All of our strategies on how to manage things. Playing to our advantage."

"You had charmed the head cook," Roma whispered, cautiously. Then with more confidence, "Although what good is choice food if I hadn't persuaded the guards on level six to let us receive it."

Murphy bitterly sighed, "We were both fools to think we ever had control of anything."

"But we knew how to work the system," Roma protested.

"And then they dropped us on Earth," Murphy reminded. "I don't see Cook or the guards down here with us. I bet they don't give us a second thought."

Roma watched him. Her gaze evaluated, and he waited for her judgment. Meanwhile, the water twinkled like a jewel. The colors could mesmerize him, but they only kept out the vast emptiness of his mind for so long.

He almost said, _Please stay._ But he wanted Roma to respect him more. Eventually, she stood with an excuse that he didn't let himself hear or understand. He didn't say, _Come back._

The rock cooled. Roma was gone.

…

Murphy had tied the three rabbits bouncing over his shoulder when he returned to his cave. He hadn't been expecting anyone, and his heart nearly stopped when he saw Finn leaning into the narrow opening of the cave and whispering Murphy's name.

Finn eventually turned and did jump when he spotted Murphy watching.

"You could have warned me," Finn protested, with a feeble laugh.

"Funnier not to," Murphy confessed, dropping the rabbits. He needed to finish working them, decide what he could eat now and what he should save. But he couldn't resist Finn's presence. He wanted to hear words that weren't his own. Ideas that weren't his own thoughts.

"Well, that's a nice catch," complimented Finn, running his fingers through his hair. 

Murphy became transfixed between that movement and the motions of Finn's lips. In the forced solitude, he noticed his attention being spellbound by the smallest of gestures. 

Finn's voice lingered, "We could use better trappers at camp…" Murphy's memories burned to the surface. _Camp, those traitors..._

"Too bad," Murphy erupted. "Where am I? Still banished. I don't suppose anyone's started a petition to release John Murphy from his…"

"Hang on," Finn pleaded, coming closer with his hands raised in surrender. "Whoa. I'm sorry. But every time I've mentioned having you come back to camp you're the one who rejects me, remember?"

"I don't want to hear about _them_ ," snapped Murphy. Unfocused energy swelled into his muscles as he tried to make Finn back down. The space between them disappeared.

"What are you going to do? _Hit me?_ " Finn challenged. He ducked back from Murphy's half-hearted swing, testing for Finn's reaction. His eyes darkened, "Hit me."

Murphy kicked around Finn's ankle, trying to dislodge his balance. Murphy staggered under the rapid response of Finn's fist. The power behind the blow was deliberately controlled. However it was enough to keep them both standing and further apart. Unacceptable.

Murphy rushed in close, intending to bring them both to the ground. Hard. It worked. Only Finn, spinning to his right, forced Murphy underneath to take the full impact. Winded, Murphy shoved his hands into Finn's jacket to keep him from escaping. Only Finn wasn't pulling away. 

"Slow down," Finn said. He had been repeating it. Murphy gripped the material still unfocused from hitting his head against the ground. 

"I thought you were smarter," Murphy started.

"What?" Finn stated, an amused puff of air sliding along Murphy's cheeks. 

"You didn't pick a _fist fight_ with Bellamy," Murphy reminded. "I can't forget it. That day you had been standing near the fire for hours with this look on your face. Concentrating, I guess. I thought you needed to shit. But then something changed. You figured us out. You took the cat meat… you made us back down with your _words_."

"I don't know…" Finn started.

Murphy frowned. "You broke Bellamy's rules with his own logic. And it was your words that I couldn't escape that day. I kept hearing them."

"Ok?" Finn shifted, trying to push up with his knees. Murphy tugged the other boy's face close. 

"Why do you physically fight me?" Murphy wondered. He jostled them both roughly. "Why this? When you can destroy me _with a sentence?_ "

Finn swallowed. He stayed kneeling over Murphy but lifted one of his hands to gently cover Murphy's grasp. 

"I'm sorry," Finn spoke, finally and with grave resolve. "That is what want to say to you. That's all. I'm sorry."

Murphy almost relented. But he wanted to devour that apology. He wanted to bite Finn's pretty mouth and ruin everything. 

Murphy growled, "Answer my question! Why do you, the pacifist, hippie, Unity Day lover…"

"I don't love Unity Day," Finn attempted, but couldn't react before Murphy suddenly shoved Finn to arm's length. 

Murphy hurried to slide away, almost desperate to get out from under Finn. 

It was too much. What he wanted to say or hear or admit or desire. He was so damn _lonely_. He knew he didn't want Finn. He wanted _anyone_. Nothing made sense. His hands were shaking.

"I fight with you because it's fair," Finn admitted. He sat, taking a long, ragged breath. "If a guy speaks with his fists, then that's how I'm going to talk to him. Besides, you came at me, John. What was that?"

Murphy blinked, hesitating at his first name. Only strangers or Roma tried to call him that. It was either extremely unfamiliar or too personal. But so was Finn.

"I don't need you telling me…" Murphy started. Aggravation sizzled. "I don't need you here. I don't need you reminding me that I was kicked out. How I was treated like shit."

Finn listened, then stood. He dusted off his pants and glanced around as if Grounders were everywhere and could be watching. 

Moving onto his feet, Murphy followed. He wiped at the sweat lodged just over his lips. In that defenseless moment, Finn punched Murphy in the face.

"Shit," Murphy bent at the waist, surprised, clutching at his face. He wanted to be angry, but somehow the pain caused it all to evaporate to a calm peace.

"I had a few things for you," Finn continued, casually. "I left them just inside the cave when I didn't find you at home."

"Home?" Murphy sniffed. He stumbled over to the cave and used the wall to brace himself upright. " _Home?_ " he repeated. Then laughed. "I guess that makes us, what? _Neighbors?_ "

"Sure," Finn nodded. But Murphy couldn't miss the wary undercurrent.

"I know I deserved this," Murphy said, touching his face. "No hard feelings."

…

"Still here I see," Roma observed, arriving mid-day and in time for lunch. 

Murphy liked to think it was because she enjoyed his cooking. What he knew was that she hated an early morning and she expected Bellamy to entertain her interests in the evening. 

Roma nibbled at the bone, long past the presence of any useful nutrients. They sat next to Murphy's regular fire pit on the far side of the river, away from his cave. She watched him with another steady, skin-piercing evaluation.

"Who else visits you?" she asked. 

"Grounders," he teased. For all the threat, he hadn't seen anyone except Finn and Roma during all of his banishment.

"Lies," Roma revealed, setting down the bone. She dragged a gaze along his form, then slid closer to wrap her arm around his waist. She said, "Who is he?"

Murphy laughed, "Guess again."

"I know it's Finn. I'm not stupid," she mocked. "Whenever your name comes up in his hearing, he complains that we haven't let you come back yet."

"Nice guy," Murphy shrugged. "How _unexpected._ "

"Don't deny I'm right," Roma threatened. "After what happened, no one wants to face you. They might have to think about what they did. Now Finn might think he's blameless, but even Finn wouldn't want you back… unless you had somehow changed his mind. And when could that have happened?"

Murphy made a noncommittal vibration that rippled down his torso. Roma tracked it with her fingers. 

"Do you like him?" she asked, tilting her head to rest on his shoulder. The wind blew the free strands of her hair to curiously poke at his face. 

"I have a very long list of people I dislike," Murphy began. "But he's not on it. He's the reason why I'm still alive."

"And he's the reason why you're still _here_ ," she emphasized. "Just around the corner. Only a few hours out on an inconvenient path to keep the rest of us from finding you."

"But not far enough away to keep a certain nag from showing up," grumbled Murphy. "I was just starting to forget what her face looked like."

After a while, Roma spoke again. "You should let me try something with your hair," she offered. And he let his eyes close, craving her touch. Any touch. But he did not breathe a whisper of his gratitude.

She wrapped her legs around him to sit close. Her fingers worked through one braid. Then another. 

"I need to tell you something about Bellamy," she admitted, slow and careful. "He's a dick. He's not you. He could never be my best friend. But he is my lover. And I think I do love him."

"Watch yourself," Murphy cautioned. 

He never saw Roma again.

…

More often than not, Murphy had pulled the loose branches over his sleeping place and hid himself before the sunlight completely disappeared. 

Instead, one evening, he lay on the flat rock and listened to the water. He may have drifted into sleep, but the loud pop and the whistling woke him in time to see lights rocket through the sky. 

"What the hell?" he asked, surprising himself. They were the first words he had spoken in quite a while.

…

"John?" 

Finn had found Murphy by his campfire. The day was near complete darkness, but Murphy didn't care why Finn would visit so late. It was enough that he did.

"Want a cricket?" Murphy offered a stick of roasted insects. "At least, I think they're crickets. They make the strangest noise. Noisy shits." He smirked. "So I shut them up. Not bad if…" 

"Roma's dead."

Murphy waved the stick again. The cricket legs wiggled as if they might try to crawl away from where they had been skewered. "…Not bad, not bad if you eat them hot. These are hot."

Finn crouched down and bobbed in and out of Murphy's focus before Finn balanced. "The Grounders got her. And one of them got me. But… I think I might still be alive." Finn lifted his arms, pulling at his shirts and showing Murphy a dark, growing stain.

As if he hadn't heard every word with absolute comprehension, Murphy asked, "What?" 

The sound of his own shouting woke him. 

Murphy sat up, shaking off the nightmare. He jostled his camouflage cover. The leaves outside of the cave rustled with the wind. Another sound sat just underneath. A sound he should know. A sound he should recognize.

He reached for his knife, but the recognition came too late.

Footsteps.

…

Finn didn't forget Murphy. Not exactly. Finn simply had a few other more pressing matters. Such as Raven's arrival. The Grounders. And the small matter of being poisoned. 

He wasn't even sure if he would have tried to reconnect with their banished peer even then, except that his small hunting party had crossed over a familiar, obscure path. He sent his companions on the easier way, letting himself meander the opposite direction on a so-called whim. His path led to a cave and part of the river next to a convenient flat rock.

Predictably, Murphy didn't answer when Finn called his name. The other boy would wander away from the cave during the day. Finn decided he would leave some indication of his presence if he didn't find Murphy at home.

Then he heard the buzzing of flies. They swarmed an unattended pile of decaying small game not far from the cave. 

Murphy knew better than to leave a mess. 

_Was he hurt? Ill? How long had it been_ , Finn asked himself. He crept toward the cave and seeing no one in the clearing, he counted a few extra minutes from the safety of the trees before approaching.

Murphy was gone. 

Finn tried not to read the signs. He didn't want to see the way that the carefully constructed home had been ripped and torn. The way that the earth had been kicked from a struggle. He didn't want the story of the blade. The same blade that Finn had given to Murphy. How it had missed its target. Stuck to a tree and then had been pulled out only to have been discarded as unnecessary.

The signs in the plants, the earth, the disturbance, the marks were not recent.

Finn stopped his breath, helpless as to what he wanted to think next. Was Murphy dead or alive? And which was better? Which was better for Murphy? Which was better for the camp?

Murphy had, in his own way, confirmed that he had wanted to live. Even if it meant being an outcast, banished. Murphy had not wanted to die. He had in his own way, Finn imagined, remained friendly with Finn because of how much Murphy had wanted to live.

Slowly, Finn picked up the blade. 

"I don't know why I thought giving this to you was going to make a difference," Finn whispered. "Now what do I do?"

He had to tell Clarke. She might not want to do anything, but the camp had to know. Bellamy had casually suggested that the Grounders might kill Murphy. But none of them had completely considered the full extent of the danger and their choices.

John Murphy, alive and with the Grounders, would change everything.

…

Tris had been instructed not to speak to Murphy, but the kid couldn't resist asking questions about the Ark in the sky. She also brought his food and was the only Grounder who Murphy would see for days at a time. So if he could lure her to stay with his tall tales about space pirates and princesses, he did.

"My father was a space pirate, yes," Murphy repeated. He was never sure if they treated him more favorably by believing he was of any political importance. But he stuck to his story. 

"And he fought the space Chancellor?" Tris asked, sitting cross-legged just out of reach of his chains. 

She had a rosy complexion under her regular tan. Most of the Grounders lived out in the elements, from what he had observed. They only had a few permanent buildings, such as his own prison. The walls left Murphy with little confidence that he knew night from day. Tris could be shifting his meals to further confuse the prisoner.

If they cared that much about him at all.

"My father fought a terrible, evil Chancellor," Murphy said with relish. "Their fight was a duel to the death."

"Honorable," Tris said as she always did, running her fingers over the marks indicating her own kills. Murphy had accepted that the Grounders were a pretty messed up society. But so far, if he cooperated with Anya they were satisfied to keep Murphy alive.

"I don't know how honorable the duel was," Murphy grumbled. "Since it was all a trick to kill my father simply because he was a space pirate."

"Space Pirate indeed. You do have the appearance of a common thief," Anya interrupted, her appearance sudden. 

Tris jumped to her feet. The girl's posture became a respectful gesture Murphy calculated to be a salute. He did not rise.

"Go," Anya ordered, watching as Tris scampered to wherever she should have been instead. Anya relaxed briefly, snuggling into her furs. Murphy's holding room was a reasonable temperature if chilly. All indications were that it would only get colder.

She watched him with a level gaze. He wondered if that was the same look she would have when she wanted to take his life. He was almost certain of it. Anya was evasive, unreadable in her emotions. 

"Perhaps you are valuable in your own way," Anya stated. "I was going to hand you over to Tristan tomorrow."

"Tris…" Murphy went silent under her stare. 

"Tristan is quite gifted at learning the truth from our… guests," Anya implied, letting her voice glide over the threat as cool as the night breeze. "After you spent some time with him, we would know more than your version of events, story teller. All the details of your people. The invaders. And all of your secrets."

Murphy kept his thoughts silent and hopeful. 

"Yet today, I have received a message that your people want to _negotiate_. To trade. For peace." 

Anya might have been as distrustful as Murphy felt. He nearly laughed. And this was how Murphy found himself seeing a horse for the first time.

…

Tris had tied the gag with awkward gentleness before they had thrown him across the saddle. Ropes secured him into place on the creature. While he tried to block out images of sliding off and being trampled, the horses moved so quickly Murphy knew there was no way that he could have managed to keep up on foot. They would have dragged him to his death.

Murphy accepted each additional moment of life, even as the animal's movements chaffed and bruised. He had no hope of identifying their paths and it wasn't until they stopped at a bridge that Murphy could focus on much of anything. 

A girl with blonde hair already stood on the bridge. Clarke, he determined. 

Murphy sighed. It remained unclear if these arrangements had been made on his behalf to save his life or if he was simply exchanging one captor for another.

The Grounders kept him behind with Tris and the archers as Anya rode forward with her lieutenants. 

During the wait, Murphy wondered again how long it had taken for Finn and Roma to realize he had been missing. Had they noticed right away? Or had the week gone by before they realized it wasn’t simply a mishap of wrong timing.

He heard Anya shout and her voice wasn't the only one to raise into the noise and confusion. Hands grabbed Murphy. They pulled him off of the horse, who stomped and swung its faces to bite at Murphy, but not before he had fallen out of reach. 

He could walk, and in the confusion they led him toward the bridge. He wanted to see this as a good indication that he would not be shipped into the hands of Anya's superior. 

On the bridge, he was sure of Clarke. And Bellamy's sister. Other Grounders blocked his sight, until a shuffle of shoulders gave Murphy his first glimpse of a friendly face.

Finn. 

His hair was shorter and his expression worried and watchful. If he had searched for Murphy or had anything to do with this exchange, Murphy could not determine. Just then, Finn only had attention for Clarke.

Clarke and Anya were still having a lively conversation. Murphy had never seen Anya so worked up over something before. Of course, Clarke had a way of doing that to certain people. 

"Bring him here," Anya ordered. 

Under escort, Murphy carefully strolled into the hands of his former camp leaders. Finn did shoot him a reassuring smile, but Murphy considered the other boy to be optimistic to a fault. Even if he was Murphy's favorite.

"As agreed, you will stay in your camp and will not cross this bridge to the north," Anya announced. She pointed at one Grounder who stood on the Ark side of the bridge. "Lincoln will let you know when we will meet again to talk about the Mountain Men and the full implications of your allegiance."

"Thank you," Clarke may have said more, but Murphy once again was caught up in Finn's arms. He checked for visible wounds before hesitating between the ropes and the gag. He pulled the gag away first.

"My favorite Space Walker," Murphy rasped, as humbly as he could. "How many times am I going to owe you my life?"

"Well, let's hope that actually means something to you," Finn said, giving up on the ropes in order to hurry Murphy toward the camp side of the bridge. They soon had their feet on earth again. Finn kept them marching until they crossed into the forest. Eventually they stopped upon reaching Bellamy, Goggles Boy, and a dark-haired girl with skeptical eyebrows.

"This is our peacemaker?" she asked. "One guy we wanted bad enough to…"

"Raven," Bellamy scolded, silencing her with a look. 

"Someone cut his hands free," Finn asked, giving up on the ropes again and crossing back into Murphy's sight.

"Nice haircut," Murphy said, finally. After he appreciated the long missed sound of Finn's self-depreciating laugh, Murphy added, "Nice guns."

"You don't get one," Bellamy cautioned. "And don't forget that we do have them."

"Noted," Murphy logged. He rubbed his freed wrists. Although he drifted closer to Finn, letting himself be inexplicably tethered to Finn all the same.

"Stop looking at him like that," Finn finally asked the others. He glanced at Murphy. "We all agreed you would get a second chance in the camp. Also you will tell me and Clarke everything that you can about the Grounders."

Murphy had prepared himself for something, some demands of obedience, and hearing orders so soon still irritated for all of his expectations. Then Finn smiled, and Murphy remembered who was asking.

"Yeah, no problem," he acquiesced. Murphy may have enjoyed the incredulous expressions from Bellamy and his new right and left hand soldiers. 

"Right then," Finn seemed in a rush. "I'm taking Murphy back with me."

"Wait," Bellamy reached after them. “It's not...”

"Feel free to follow," Finn called out. He put his hand between Murphy's shoulder blades and gently pushed. The urgency was worrisome, not that Murphy minded some time alone. Every single person on Earth was on Murphy's shit list. Finn was one of the two people left that Murphy actually liked. 

After a minute, Murphy's step dropped heavily. He stopped in between where they had been and where they had to go next.

"Tell me here," Murphy muttered. "Tell me now. I know. Somehow I know…"

"Know what?" Finn inquired, incapable of hiding anything. Murphy could read that face.

"I know why she isn't here now. Why she wasn't standing at Bellamy's side." Murphy listened to his own voice, but he became detached from everything. Distance helped him process that his world would never be the same. He grabbed at the braids still in his hair. " _Roma._ "

Finn only managed to say, "She was very brave."

…

"God help you all if something happens to Finn," Murphy shouted from the wall. 

He watched as the first light hunting party gathered around Finn and started to jeer. They knocked against Finn, gently, as he waved at Murphy with an exacerbated weariness.

"You shouldn't say things like that." Bellamy stepped forward sharing the watch tower with Murphy. 

"Oh, he likes it," Murphy insinuated, smirking. 

"Not what I meant," replied Bellamy. He could put on a condescending smile to rival the best of them. Murphy chuckled as Bellamy slapped Murphy's shoulder in a friendly manner. 

They watched the trees until Finn and his companions were out of sight. The truce with Anya's Grounders was holding. The camp had enjoyed a full week of peace. As Finn seemed perpetually on the outs with both Clarke and Raven, Murphy had volunteered himself to share Finn's tent. And while Murphy had also started to pull his own weight around the camp, including undesirable shifts of the wall, his second-chance hadn't included receiving one of Bellamy's rifles.

"Not what I meant, but your good behavior _is_ all due to Finn. Isn't it?" Bellamy amiably continued, "Just remember, Murphy. I happen to know when you threaten us with _that_ … you're telling the truth."


End file.
